Flat
by Drewsramblings
Summary: It's 22 years after the movies and public opinion has long since turned against mutants. What would it be like to grow up a non-mutant among mutants?
1. A Visit from Mr Eye

He was sitting in the living room, staring at the wall. He was thinking about his dad, which is why it was an especially unpleasant surprise when Mr. Eye appeared in the doorway. And, since his mother wasn't there, he didn't see an reason to pretend that it was anything other than an especially unpleasant surprise.  
  
"You're back AGAIN?" He added 'Mr. Eye,' in his thoughts, but he couldn't quite get his mouth to make the sounds.  
  
"Brandon! Where are your manners?" scolded his mother, walking into the room. So she had been in earshot after all.  
  
"Sorry," he said, with just enough sincerity that she probably wouldn't make him repeat it.  
  
She turned to Mr. Eye with a little smile. "Please, Mr. Summers, make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink?"  
  
"Call me Scott, please," answered Mr. Eye with a chuckle.  
  
"I can't sleep with you until you call me by my first name," muttered Brandon in a mockery of the man's voice.  
  
"And I would like some water."  
  
"You're sure?" pressed his mother, "We have coffee." She already went without sometimes and she was offering it to this calculating jerk.  
  
"No, that's really not necessary." He took a deep breath and spoke before she could leave for the kitchen. "I'm afraid we have to talk business."  
  
She stopped near the doorway, turned around, and nodded for him to continue.  
  
"Well," he started, then indicated Brandon with a tilt of his head.  
  
"He knows already. His father..." She stopped, aware that there was no need to continue the thought. "He can keep a secret."  
  
Mr. Eye glanced Brandon up and down then began. "To be honest, Nora, we need your help. You know what we're trying to do, and you know we can't take two steps without them shutting us down. We desperately need any kind of power that will allow us to move around without drawing their attention. We need YOU."  
  
His mom narrowed her eyes, considering him. At least she wasn't blindly agreeing just because it was Mr. Eye asking.  
  
"You're a true morph, Nora; that's more than Mystique ever had and just look what she managed to accomplish."  
  
She took a deep breath, looked at Brandon, and turned back to Mr. Eye. "I know what you're doing, and I know that I can help. And I want to help. But...Brandon." Isn't one parent enough, asshole? Not that she would have used that term even to someone she hadn't fallen under the spell of.  
  
"What do you think, Brandon?"  
  
The question caught him off guard, so he couldn't answer except with, "What?"  
  
"What do you think? What do you think of what we're doing? What do you think of your mom's possible involvement in it? What do you think of your possible involvement in it?" He noticed the man didn't mention his dad's involvement in it.  
  
"What do you mean, his involvement in it?" demanded his mother.  
  
"Well," said Mr. Eye, looking from one to the other, "it wouldn't be the first time a boy had imagined revenge for his father."  
  
Brandon was more shocked than he would have admitted. Not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but why was MR. EYE bringing it up? "How could I? I'm not even a mutant."  
  
"Not yet. But you know as well as I do that you'll be a strong one once you do become one. With parents like these..." He trailed off, waiting for Brandon to speak.  
  
He found he didn't have any idea what to say. His gut reaction was that he didn't want his mom to go because one parent was enough. Dad had died; he didn't want Mom to die also. But there was another reaction, that said that he did want her to go. Someone had to pay for killing Dad, and since he couldn't do it yet he felt like she should. She wouldn't be firing any guns, he knew, but she could at least figure out who had killed Dad and tell the guys who did to kill them. Besides, he couldn't show his fear to this man. Possibly some other man, but not this one. "I don't know," he said defiantly, "Are you just sending her off to die?"  
  
The man looked shocked that an eleven-year-old would be saying something like that. Brandon considered telling him having a father die can sometimes be a reality check even to a kid, but he decided against it.  
  
His mother spoke quietly. "Brandon, you mustn't talk like that. You know they're doing everything they can to help us."  
  
Mr. Eye knelt down in front of him and looked him in the face, emphasizing that he was the adult and Brandon was not. "I know you don't like me, and I think I know why. But put that aside for a moment, and tell me straight: would it be too much for you to have your mother away with us a lot of the time?"  
  
"No. It would be too much for you to send her out to be killed, though." Mr. Eye blinked under his stare, and he declared a small victory. "I'll be fine. It's her decision."  
  
The man stood back up and turned back toward Mom. "Can we talk alone?"  
  
His mom nodded at him, and he nodded back. He went to his room and shut the door. He could have listened in on them even from there if he had wanted to, but he didn't want to. Mr. Eye would convince her to work for them. The only thing that bugged him about it was that she wouldn't agree because of him or Dad or anything like that; she would agree for Mr. Eye. The thing she refused to see was that he paid visits to many houses in which the man was dead, arrested, or out all the time. He even paid occasional visits to houses where the man still lived there and only happened to be out when he showed up.  
  
He turned his thoughts away from sickening Mr. Eye and back to his dad. It had been five months now; he had been dead as long as he had worked with the rebels. He wouldn't have wanted Mom to join the rebellion, but he always did appreciate her power. She used to morph exotic birds for him; he had always had a thing for birds. There had been a whole lot of times he had come out of his room to find some strange animal in the living room and his dad laughing about how great her power was.  
  
He had mostly forgotten about the visit by the time his mother opened his door, but he remembered as soon as she did so. He turned and looked at her face. She had agreed.  
  
"You can come out now; he's gone."  
  
He stood up without a word and followed her into the living room. He didn't really feel like listening to her try to explain her decision.  
  
They stood, staring at each other for several seconds. She didn't know how to begin.  
  
"Let's go over to the Ericksons'."  
  
"What?" It was so unexpected that he assumed he misheard her.  
  
"Come on. The Ericksons'."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I'm not going to be able to be here every night and you need to have somewhere you can go. Mr. Summers says they're willing, so let's see how it works out."  
  
He blinked two or three times, then followed her out the door. At least she wasn't going to make him sit through the conversation about why she was joining.  
  
As they closed the door behind them and started down the street Brandon reflected on what it would be like with the Ericksons. It was obvious why he was going there; it was one of the few houses where two adults were always around. Mr. Erickson wasn't part of the rebellion because he was huge and bright red; if they were ever going to send him out they would just shoot him and get it over with. In any case Mr. and Mrs. Erickson were nice enough, from what he'd seen of them. They had two daughters, one of whom had reddish skin from her dad and both of whom were pretty. At least he would be near them. Not that they would notice his eleven-year-old self, but that could have advantages too.  
  
He became aware all of a sudden that he wasn't following his mother anymore; she had stopped a few steps back. He turned around and found she was staring at something. It was the Heap.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"That's why I decided to do it, you know, not because of Mr. Summers."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"I did it because I hate this place. Before, we could live in real houses. Our stores carried new, nice things. Our garbagemen really picked up the trash. Our theaters played movies."  
  
Now that he looked at it, the Heap did look like it had been a theater once.  
  
"This is no place to raise children. That's why by the time you're ready to have kids I want this place to be nothing but a memory." She started to walk again, and he went back to following her.  
  
He found himself confused by her words. The barrow wasn't that great - it was dirty and cramped and there was never anything new happening except when soldiers arrested or shot someone - but he couldn't really understand the hatred in his mom's voice. It was just the way things were. Mutants were stuck in the barrow. No one liked it, but so far no one had been able to do a whole lot about it.  
  
"That's why I'd like to get you in with the Ericksons; there's no way you're staying in the Heap."  
  
"Mom..."  
  
"I mean it; don't even go in there anymore. I feel bad for those kids, but the fact is that it's dangerous there. None of them know anything about their powers. Once you get your father's powers it may change, but right now you wouldn't have any way of defending yourself."  
  
He knew it was better not to argue. He didn't particularly like anyone from the Heap, so it wouldn't be that hard to stay away from it. He had only ever spent any time there when Kin had had to stay there for a month when his father was detained for questioning. It had been right after Kin was brought to the barrow and Brandon's mother didn't know him or she would have allowed him to stay there, like she did later.  
  
When they got there Chloe was sitting on the stoop. She was the fourteen- year-old, the girl Kin obviously had a crush on. "Hey," she called.  
  
"You heard?" asked his mom.  
  
"Yeah. Mr. Summers said Brandon was probably coming and probably so was somebody else."  
  
As they walked up the steps Brandon found himself hoping the other kid was Kin. Then a few seconds later he changed his mind as he realized that that would only happen if Kin's dad went out to work on the rebellion. The army was already watching out for him, so that would not be a good idea at all.  
  
Brandon couldn't get excited about being shown around the Ericksons' house; it was exactly like their own except a little bigger. The girls would share a room and he would share a room with the other kid, if he or she showed up. He hoped it was a boy; it would be weird to sleep in the same room as a girl. When he mentioned this to his mom she told him he was spoiled as an only child, and that he had to have been the only kid in the whole barrow who had never shared a room with anyone.  
  
When they left again after half an hour or so, they hadn't gotten six feet when Kin appeared and called to Brandon.  
  
He called back, then looked at his mother meaningfully.  
  
"I have a meeting in half an hour, so I'll see you in three or four hours."  
  
"Okay." She turned for home and he turned toward Kin.  
  
"How come you went to the Ericksons'?" asked Kin, once they were close enough.  
  
"I'm going to be staying there while my mom's away."  
  
"Really? Lucky. So you saw Chloe and Stephanie?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Was Chloe wearing a see-through shirt again this time?"  
  
"Nope, sorry. Maybe next time."  
  
Kin sighed. Brandon had only been joking when he said a couple of weeks before that she had been wearing a see-through shirt, but Kin had believed it so completely that he didn't feel like explaining that it wasn't true. It was fun to play with him.  
  
"But anyway Steph is prettier, and you can usually see her skin through her shirt, unless she's wearing black or something."  
  
"I think it's kind of creepy. She's red! Besides, she's only twelve."  
  
"She's old enough to be a mutant already. I'm not. And it's not creepy; it's cool. If it were neon red like her dad's maybe not, but it's only brown-red."  
  
"Whatever. You take Stephanie and I'll take Chloe."  
  
"Don't say that too loud."  
  
They walked in silence for a minute or two. They were good friends even though he was only eleven and Kin was thirteen. As his mother said, they were both at the level of 12-year-olds. They were in the same class and probably would have been even if actual teaching had gone on in the classes. Brandon may even have been ahead of Kin, since Kin hadn't been able to go to school regularly for his first two or three months in the barrow.  
  
"How come your mom is leaving?" asked Kin finally.  
  
"Same reason my dad left."  
  
Kin's eyes shot open. "Is she going to...?"  
  
"I hope not."  
  
A little twister appeared at his feet and picked up little bits of trash and leaves, whirling them around. It was what always happened when Kin was nervous about something.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Mr. Eye convinced her." She had said she was doing it so they could get out of the barrow, but he didn't feel like believing it at the moment.  
  
"That guy is so old. How come all the women fall all over him?"  
  
Brandon shrugged. "He doesn't look that old, I guess. Maybe the part of his face under the goggles is full of wrinkles." He liked the sound of that.  
  
It hadn't made Kin feel any better, though, judging by the fact that the little twister was now big enough to throw trash at his legs hard enough to hurt.  
  
"Ow! Cut that out!"  
  
It sped up even more for a second or two, then died out suddenly.  
  
"Bastard. You just wait until I have powers too."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. Seismic AND true morph!"  
  
"How do you know? You might only have one or the other, or something completely different."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Didn't you know? If you're the kid of two mutants the mutations screw each other up and you can get really weird stuff happening."  
  
"Bullcrap. Just because your mom wasn't a mutant."  
  
"No, really. Remember that Graham kid? You've seen his parents; which side did those little wings come from?"  
  
He had a point. Graham had little batwings, and neither of his parents did. Even so... "No, you're just screwing with me."  
  
"What about Stephanie?"  
  
"Her skin is between her mom's and her dad's, just like everybody!"  
  
"Fine. Believe what you want. I'm just saying, you might end up with some weird stuff."  
  
They walked in silence for a block, while Brandon chewed on that. Then he realized something: Graham had had the wings since he was a baby. Steph had been red since she was a baby. Things like that didn't just hit you later, the way powers did. He smiled, but didn't bother to say anything to Kin.  
  
They rounded a corner and the Heap came in to view. It looked different this time than it had ever before. It looked uglier, dirtier. It looked like a dead theater, instead of the mysterious place with all the cool older kids it had been when he was younger. He noticed that the plastic of the old movie poster cases was all broken and that the old sign where the movie titles used to be posted had two big holes in it. The lamp post out front was extremely bent and the light that should have been on top was completely gone.  
  
"What's up with you?"  
  
"What was it like, before?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"What was it like when you lived with your mom?"  
  
"Um, better than here, I guess. But we're mutants."  
  
"But don't you wish you weren't a mutant? Your mom wasn't; you might not have been. Don't you miss living with your mom and your sister in a house and all?"  
  
Kin shrugged. "They didn't even want me after they found out. I wouldn't go back to them if I could."  
  
"Okay, so what if you and your dad could live in a house just like you did back when you lived with them?"  
  
"That would be nice, I guess. I would miss my twisters, though."  
  
"I mean you'd still be mutants and you'd live in a house outside the barrow."  
  
"Oh. I guess."  
  
He didn't know what to say to that. He had expected Kin to want really badly to get out of the barrow. Did that mean that his mom was just wrong? Was the house and the neighborhood his parents lived in when they got married better than the house and neighborhood Kin's mother and sister lived in?  
  
"So?" asked Kin. "Are we going in, or what?"  
  
"Into the Heap?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I guess." It wasn't like his mom was going to find out. She had said something about safety, but he wasn't worried; Kin was there if there was anything he couldn't handle.  
  
As they closed the distance to the Heap, Brandon wondered more about life outside the barrow. What was with Kin not caring, anyway?  
  
The first thing they noticed when Kin cracked open the door to the Heap was an ominous kind of sanding noise and a lot of shouting. They walked to the end of the little hallway and looked out in the main area and saw bigger kids running in every direction. Brandon saw something flashing toward him really fast and ducked, just in time. It looked like a boomerang or something, but made of metal.  
  
"They finally destroyed the lighting!" yelled Kin, just so Brandon would be able to hear him.  
  
Suddenly Brandon realized that he was right. Pieces of lighting bars were flying around in every direction. It had been a small piece that had flown at his head.  
  
"Get down!" yelled Kin. He held out his hands, and after a count of ten or eleven there was a huge wind tunnel of little swirling bits of metal pointed away from them. It grew and continued to grow. 


	2. A Visit from Mr Toadstool

"Stop it!" screamed a girl. Other kids echoed her.  
  
In response, Kin switched the direction of the tunnel, causing all of the material to be thrown at the floor with scary speed.  
  
"What the hell do you think you were doing?" demanded a big kid Brandon sort of recognized. He looked like he was sixteen or seventeen.  
  
"You'll kill somebody," was Kin's answer.  
  
"If somebody gets hit then it's their own fault!" retorted the big kid. He slammed one fist into his open other hand with a startling clank. So he was a texture absorber, or something.  
  
"Fine." Within seconds the wind tunnel was back, this time pointed directly at the kid.  
  
Suddenly Kin was gone and his tunnel started to spin around the room dangerously. Brandon looked around to see where he had gone, and he discovered him on the floor ten or twelve feet away, pinned to the ground. He recognized the boy pinning him as Will Maximoff, a speedy. He must have been moving fast to knock Kin to the ground like that, but if anyone could it would be Will.  
  
There was another minute or so of chaos as the twister raced around the room and people, Brandon included, tried to get out of its way. Finally Kin got a hand free and brought it down the same way he had before.  
  
"Stupid idiot!" yelled a girl Brandon didn't recognize. She was talking to Will, thankfully. Some others swore at him, and he jumped up and went somewhere so fast that no one had enough time to figure out where that was.  
  
At this point Brandon had to admit that maybe his mother was right after all. He was the only one there without a power, and if anyone was going to use their power against him it was going to be someone from the Heap. These were the kids who had effectively lost both of their parents, after all, even if it was just because neither of their parents was a mutant. A lot of them were unstable.  
  
As he walked the block and a half to his house he started to realize what his mom had been talking about. It wasn't that her life outside had been a whole lot better than Kin's; it was that kids become part of where they live. Brandon had lived his whole life in the barrow as far he knew, and he couldn't imagine living anywhere else. He assumed that since the other kids had lived outside for a long time they would remember it and wish they were still there, but they couldn't imagine living anywhere else any more than he could. They had already become part of the barrow, and most likely part of the Heap. Hadn't Kin been coming back there ever since he had lived there? He had never thought about it before, but there was no real reason for him to have been coming back the whole time. He didn't have any good friends there or anything.  
  
He stopped at the corner and turned around, wondering whether Kin had followed him out. He hadn't. Was it because he hadn't noticed that Brandon left? Or was it because he didn't want to leave, even after what had already happened?  
  
"What's the matter, boy?" asked a voice behind him, "Afraid of it, are you?" It was a distinctive voice, and he had clicked it into place by the time he turned around to face the man. Mr. Toadstool.  
  
"What's it matter?"  
  
"There's no need to take that kind of tone. I was just wondering. They're all mutants, after all..."  
  
Brandon put as much disdain into his voice as he could. "They're in the barrow. Everyone here is a mutant."  
  
"Oh. Have you gotten some power, then?"  
  
His cheeks started to turn a little red despite himself. He hadn't been thinking about the fact that he was the only flat, he told himself, but it was no use.  
  
"You just left there, didn't you? Couldn't handle it? A little bird says they finally pulled down the last of the lighting. It must have been scary with all that metal flying around."  
  
He couldn't quite believe that Mr. Toadstool would know that. There had always been rumors that he was telepathic, but they were usually followed by somebody scoffing. Could it be true?  
  
"Of course I'm telepathic. You didn't know that?" He smiled sickly.  
  
"What!"  
  
The green man laughed. "You don't have to worry so. I can read your face, boy, not your mind."  
  
Brandon's ears burned. What could he say to that? Why was this man so horrible, anyway? What had HE ever done to him?  
  
"Look, you know about the rebellion." It wasn't a question, but he was looking intently at Brandon, so he nodded in response. "I'm part of it. Would you like to help us?"  
  
He gaped. What else could he do?  
  
"I know about your mum. And I know Mr. Eye's methods with the agents; she won't last a month."  
  
Terror flooded Brandon's stomach despite him. How could the man know about his mother? How could he know about the nickname for Mr. Summers? And if he knew that much, could the rest have been true too? He didn't want to think about it.  
  
"My point is that you may have a chance to help your mother and get back at the people who did your dad, too. See, I work for a little different part of the rebellion than Mr. Summers. Have you heard of Magneto?"  
  
He thought he recognized the name, but he wasn't sure. In any case it sent a shiver up his spine. It was the way the green man said it, the way he whispered it. If you whispered in the barrow it was probably because you would be arrested for speaking aloud, and if anyone was so powerful that just speaking their name would get you arrested... "Who is he?"  
  
"He doesn't live in this barrow or any other. The only one, maybe." His eyes held Brandon's. They told him clearly that this Magneto was a mutant, and a very powerful one. "Everyone reports to him, or at least everyone used to. In the last few years certain mutants have gotten a touch greedy." He knew immediately that one of those 'certain mutants' was Mr. Eye. Could it possibly have been that Toadstool was a teep for real? He wondered, but the man kept speaking and he couldn't help but pay attention. "Those mutants have taken matters into their own hands, and have recruited many mutants without consulting the Outsider. Most of these are now dead. What we need is to put the reins back into HIS hands."  
  
Questions raced through Brandon's brain. Was it even possible that all of it was true? Was it possible that there could have been a mutant who lived outside the barrow, who controlled the rebellion? Foremost, though, was one question that he just couldn't leave unanswered: why was this man telling him, of all people?  
  
"Why me?"  
  
The man grinned at him. He always looked like an alligator or some other reptile when he did that. "Many reasons. You're smart, for one thing. You're smart enough to see through sparkling Mr. Eye. You're smart enough to realize that there's more to life than the barrow, something no young mutant realizes."  
  
"I knew it! You are telepathic!"  
  
"No," said the man, shaking his head. "I don't have to be able to read minds. I read people."  
  
"You lie!"  
  
Mr. Toadstool grinned again. "Do I? You're a right mine of information. You miss your dad; that's the first thing I see. Next, you think a hell of lot more than the others your age. You just sit and think, don't you? The other obvious thing is that you wish you had powers like the others. You hate the Heap, and that's why; you know you're smarter than those kids, but any one of them could kill you. It's not fair, is it?"  
  
Brandon absolutely couldn't believe his ears.  
  
"Furthermore, you hate your little friend who controls the wind. You don't believe you will ever be a mutant."  
  
"That's not true! You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" He refused to believe that it was true, even though he knew somewhere in himself that it was.  
  
"You're smarter than all of them, Brandon. Think about it; I know you'll see that everything I have told you is the truth."  
  
"Go away!"  
  
"Very well, but in five or six hours you'll want to talk to me again. I'll be at the pub." He gave a mocking half-salute, pushed past Brandon, and walked away.  
  
"What?" asked Brandon quietly as he stared after the green man. After he disappeared from view Brandon turned around, shook his head, and walked to his house.  
  
His house wasn't comforting like he thought it would be. His mom was already gone, so it was too silent, too dark. He flipped on the main light but it didn't help. It was too CALM. He would just have to wait until his mom arrived. Then he would tell her all about the weird meeting with Mr. Toadstool and she would make him feel better. He flopped himself on the couch and glanced over at the useless TV.  
  
Would it be right to tell Mom, if any of what the man said was true? If Mr. Eye really was taking over the rebellion and sending people out to be killed, wouldn't it be better off for him not to tell her? It was very tempting to believe at least that much, that Mr. Eye was doing things wrong, that it was his fault Dad had died.  
  
He burst into tears, to his shame. He thought horrible deaths at Mr. Eye and wiped his eyes furiously. There was no reason to believe Toadstool, but that didn't him any less certain that the man had been right about that part at least. And if he was right about that part then who was to say that his mother wasn't about to die, that she didn't need his help? What if this Magneto guy could save her and get them out of the barrow? If anyone could do it it would be someone who had managed to stay out of it the whole time, right?  
  
'You don't believe you will ever be a mutant.' That was what he had said. Brandon wondered. He had long wished that his body would hurry up and change, to make his mutations come to the surface. How could he not, when everyone else already had their powers? For years there had been older kids, kids like Chloe and Stephanie Erickson, who had lived in the barrow but who hadn't had powers. Now, though, all of them had changed, and many more kids had come to the barrow BECAUSE they had powers. Now the only others without powers were little kids. One eight-year-old, Tommy, was the only other kid over the age of five without any powers. He knew he had heard why that was. He thought about it for a few seconds, then he remembered something his dad had told him once a couple of years before. That was the answer. 'Your mother was pregnant with you when they created the barrows and forced everyone to move into them. You were the last child born in this barrow for a long time, because many families were broken up, and even when they weren't - when both the husband and the wife were mutants - they didn't want to have children in this place. Many people in fact said they COULDN'T have children in this place. We tried, and failed. You might have had a little brother or sister, if not for this place.' At the time it had seemed important only because he had not known that he might have had a little brother or sister, and he regretted not having one. Now, though, it meant much more.  
  
Thinking about it was too painful, so he decided not to. He shook himself off and remembered what he had been thinking before.  
  
What had Toadstool been talking about? Had he only pointed out that Brandon wasn't a mutant to make him mad, or was there a real reason? Why would he have asked for his help at all if he didn't know something? Could the man have known a way to make his mutations come forward?  
  
As soon as he thought of the possibility his heart rate sped up. It made sense. The way he taunted him...Not that Brandon knew how it was possible to draw out a mutation. But that didn't mean it was impossible. And who would know if not Magneto and the people running the rebellion? Especially considering that Brandon couldn't have been THAT far from becoming a mutant on his own. Or could he? Of the mutants who didn't already have their powers as kids, most girls got them at eleven or twelve, but most boys got them at thirteen or fourteen. And who was to say he would ever become a mutant? One girl, Marina, had stayed in the barrow until she was eighteen, then had left. The army wouldn't even have let her if she was a mutant. What if he was another Marina? He would never be able to get back at the people who killed his dad, then.  
  
He was thinking too hard, he decided suddenly. 'You just sit and think, don't you?' had been what Toadstool had said. What he needed to do was just not think about anything for a little while, just until his mom came back. He went into his mom's room and grabbed the old notebook off of her desk. He took it back to his bed and turned it on. It wasn't very good for games - it crashed a lot - but at the moment he didn't feel like coming up with his own game, so he opened up the little solitaire program and started a game.  
  
As suspected, the program crashed fifteen minutes into his game. He turned the notebook off and back on, then started a new game.  
  
The second time it crashed he was almost thankful, since he had just lost anyway.  
  
Four hours passed before Brandon thought to check the clock. When he did he started to become anxious that his mother wasn't back yet. On the other hand, she did say it would be three or four hours. There was no reason to be worried yet.  
  
Half an hour later Brandon suddenly thought of what Toadstool had told him at the end of their meeting. 'Very well, but in five or six hours you'll want to talk to me again.' Why five or six hours? Did he somehow know that Mom was supposed to be coming home after four hours, and that she wouldn't? His blood ran cold. What if they had done something to her? The man had been so confident that he would come back.  
  
Suddenly he had to know. He had to know if they had done something to her. If they had he would find a way to stop them and do whatever it took to make it right.  
  
He was out the door and running down the street in the space of a couple of heartbeats. Had he been lying the whole time? Could he and his boss have been sabotaging the rebellion? Could they have been working with the humans?  
  
As he rounded the corner where the meeting had happened his confusion multiplied. Why would he have come? Why would he have talked to Brandon? It made no sense if he was part of the rebellion and even less sense if he was trying to stop the rebellion. He had to know. He had to know why Toadstool had talked to him.  
  
When he got to the pub he didn't hesitate to go in even though he wasn't allowed and had never gone in before. He wondered whether someone would kick him out as soon as he got inside, but no one did. No one cared about the rules except the soldiers; if he didn't make himself obvious to any of them he should be fine.  
  
It took exactly one second for him to spot the green man once he was actually inside. He was in a corner with no one close by him. He was flicking out his tongue at something eight or ten feet away on the counter; that was probably what Brandon had seen to spot him so quickly.  
  
"Where is she?" he asked even before he got to the counter. "Why did you talk to me?"  
  
The green man turned to smile sickly at him. "You've come a little earlier than I expected."  
  
"Tell me." Brandon couldn't physically threaten him, but that didn't mean he couldn't be threatening at all.  
  
"Don't worry about your mum. It's too late; she's already gone."  
  
Fear clawed its way up from Brandon's stomach to his throat, making it impossible to speak. So they did do something to her? What could he possibly do if they had? 


	3. A Visit from a Hooded Figure

"Where is she?"  
  
"I think you know that. She met with Mr. Eye; did you think he was going to send her home for a week to think about her decision after he had already managed the hard part of convincing her to work for him?"  
  
It took a seemingly long time for Brandon to organize his thoughts enough to keep talking, so Toadstool worked on his drink.  
  
"So she's in the field? How did you know she would be? How did you know I would come in five or six hours?" After all that mystery he wasn't about to trust the man.  
  
"The first one is easy: that's what Mr. Eye does with his agents, as least ones he can use immediately like Nora. He's really quite predictable. And as for how I knew she told you she would be home in four hours, take a guess."  
  
Brandon stared at him blankly.  
  
"I followed you. I followed you all the way from the home of Mr. and Mrs. Erickson to the corner where I stopped you. I knew what your mother had done, and I knew I had to speak to you."  
  
Much as he hated to admit that it could have been true, it did make things clearer. That's how the man had known that he had gone into the Heap and then left again, and that he saw that there might have been something beyond the barrow. "Fine. If it was so important for you to talk to me then talk to me! Tell me what's going on!"  
  
"I've already told you what's going on. There are a few of us left who are still loyal to the Outsider's control over this rebellion, and we want to shut down the two main upstart rebellions within this barrow. One of those is led by Mr. Eye, and that is the one that has directly affected your family and will continue to directly affect your family."  
  
"So what can I do about it?"  
  
"You can leave."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You can leave the barrow."  
  
"No I can't!"  
  
Toadstool nodded. "There can be advantages to not having powers." He paused. "True, it's illegal for the child of two mutants to leave before the age of fourteen, but that won't be a problem. Remember what I told you, that you were smart?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"You can pass for fourteen, can't you?"  
  
He stared; he couldn't help it. "I...no! Look at me!"  
  
"No. Don't look at you."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Close your eyes and tell me if you can pass for fourteen."  
  
He was confused, but he certainly wasn't going to close his eyes in front of the man. It was creepy for one thing, and for another that would make it seem like he trusted him, which he didn't.  
  
The green man shrugged. "If you insist. What I was asking was this: if the person you were trying to fool wasn't looking at you, wasn't listening to your voice, would they be able to tell that you aren't fourteen?"  
  
"I don't know. Why wouldn't they be looking at me or hearing my voice?"  
  
"They'll be in your head. Or at least the gate guard will be."  
  
"The gate guard is telepathic? Why would a mutant keep mutants in?"  
  
Mr. Toadstool grinned. "You see? You're a smart one."  
  
"You didn't answer me."  
  
"I don't have to. If you're thinking the question as you pass through the gate he'll answer it for you."  
  
A shiver ran up Brandon's spine. He knew there were teeps around - you couldn't walk around the barrow without running into ONE - but he had never known any before, had never been told he was about to have his thoughts read.  
  
"That's the trick: you have to get past that teep without giving anything away."  
  
"Is that possible?"  
  
"Of course. You do it all that time. When you run into a teep on the street he doesn't see your whole life story."  
  
"He doesn't?"  
  
The green man laughed. "They wouldn't get very far if they had to sit through a whole life story every time they came near someone, would they?"  
  
"But why not?"  
  
"Because you're not thinking it at them and they're not going into your mind and turning over rocks."  
  
"But the gate guard will be, won't he?"  
  
"Yes, but he can only turn over so many, and you would be surprised just how many rocks will fit into a brain the size or yours or mine. The hard part is the other one: not thinking exactly what he wants straight at him."  
  
"It is?"  
  
"Yes. Don't think about your dad."  
  
He thought about his dad.  
  
"You see the difficulty?"  
  
Brandon nodded.  
  
"Now, though, I'm serious: don't think about your dad. Put away the thoughts."  
  
He didn't know how to do that. He put away his dad's image, but he still thought about the fact that he had died because of Mr. Eye, and now Brandon had a chance to get back at him.  
  
"If you're having trouble, think of something completely different, something you care about more."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Stephanie Erickson."  
  
He blushed.  
  
"Hey, you've forgotten about your dad."  
  
He realized that he had.  
  
"Fantasies are wonderful for distracting teeps; there's nothing suspicious about them and yet they're quite effective at covering up your thoughts. Another way is to read a book, one that is interesting enough that you forget all about what you're doing and hopefully about the telepath as well."  
  
"You've done it before? You've gotten past the teep?"  
  
"I've only gotten past this teep guard once or twice - it's not very smart for me to try to play flatscan - but I've gotten past many others in my time."  
  
He tried to imagine situations where the green man would had to have slipped past a telepath, and found he couldn't quite.  
  
"And, of course, thinking fantasies at him will only make you seem more like a fourteen-year-old."  
  
He blushed again.  
  
"But enough of that. You're going to need to know how to get in contact with the Outsider once you're out of here."  
  
"Huh?" He was actually going to be talking to Magneto? The mutant who lived outside the barrow, who controlled the rebellion? It made sense, but he hadn't thought of it before.  
  
"Here." Mr. Toadstool placed something on the counter in front of him. It was a book. MOBY DICK.  
  
"What is this?" He picked it up and hefted it.  
  
"A book. In it you'll find instructions on how to contact the Outsider."  
  
"I have to find them in HERE?" It had to have been 1000 pages long.  
  
"You're reading this book for the same reason you're leaving: you're smart and you're fed up with the this barrow's awful education system."  
  
"Fine, but how am I supposed to find the instructions in here?"  
  
"Look for them."  
  
He flipped open the first page, then flipped past the first 30 or 40 pages before giving up. "I can't find them."  
  
"Then the guard won't find them either."  
  
"But how can I use that?"  
  
"You know something the guard doesn't know."  
  
"I do?"  
  
"You know birthdays."  
  
Instead of speaking and just sounding like more of an idiot Brandon thought about what the man could have meant. Of course he knew birthdays, but how did that help him? Well, there were pages in the book that corresponded to certain birthdays. But how would he know which ones? There was his own birthday, but that was probably too obvious. What if it was someone else, someone not quite so obvious? He tried his father's, page 316. He found the page and looked at it carefully, but couldn't see anything that could have been interpreted as instructions. "Is there something else I have to do?"  
  
"Use your brain, maybe. Who's the first person they would think of?"  
  
Brandon blinked at the man a couple of times, then realized what he meant. His father was the first person they would think of, since they knew they had killed him and would guess he was leaving to get revenge for him somehow. Did that mean that his own birthday was more likely, or that it was someone less obvious?  
  
"I think you'll think of it once you're on the outside."  
  
"Well, now what? What am I supposed to do about a place to stay, or about food, or about going places? Am I just supposed to walk out of the barrow?"  
  
"Yes. You're going to walk out of the barrow because that is the only way out of the barrow. Then you are going to get on the first bus you see. You are going to get out of the range of the guard gate's telepathy as fast as you can, then you are going to contact the Outsider and he will make arrangements for everything else you need."  
  
"But...what? That's it?"  
  
"It's enough. If you can make it out the first time without giving us away you will continue to go back and forth. You'll be going to school on the outside; that's why you're leaving. Since you're fourteen now and still not a mutant you can do that."  
  
"Wow. If I do that I'll have to go past the teep gate guard twice a day."  
  
"You're right."  
  
Brandon sighed. Was he going to do this? The man had never really given him the choice, but they couldn't exactly force him if he refused to do it. Which meant that it all came down to whether he decided to do it. His immediate reaction, once he knew that Mr. Eye really had been going against the rebellion and really was responsible for sending his mother out into the field, was that he had to go so he could save his mom. But it would be really dangerous if he did, and he could end up being caught and telling them about his mom. Still, someone had to do it and it had to be someone without mutant powers. He was the only one, then, who could do it, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't and his mother was killed or arrested. He had been waiting for a long time to get his powers so he could go out and fight; now he was being given the chance to fight even without powers. He had to take it.  
  
"So?" asked Mr. Toadstool.  
  
"Do I have to leave now?"  
  
"Tomorrow. You'll want to have a nice dinner and a night's sleep in you before you go. If you have any regrets as you pass the gate he'll feel them."  
  
"But if my mom is already gone..."  
  
"That's why you went to the Ericksons' house."  
  
"Do they know?"  
  
"No. But they will eventually, I would guess. I'm not worried about them; I'll see to it that Joel keeps Stephanie in check and everything will be fine."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Joel, Mr. Erickson, is quiet used to being noticed by soldiers and is something of an expert at keeping what he knows to himself. If he makes sure his unfortunately colored daughter has the same skill no one will bother the other two and we won't have a problem."  
  
He blinked at the green man. There was something about the way he had said those last couple of sentences that gave him a bad feeling, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was that he didn't like the idea of soldiers bothering Stephanie because of her skin color. He shook his head to clear it.  
  
"Is that it?"  
  
"Just about. In a few moments you'll want to leave and go directly to their house without stopping off at yours."  
  
"Okay. Why?"  
  
"Bugs."  
  
He was briefly confused, then he realized what the man meant: microphones. But if they had bugged his house who was to say that they hadn't bugged the bar? What if the soldiers had heard everything, from when Mr. Eye came over to his house until right then? Another shiver ran down his spine.  
  
"They can't hear us; that's why we're here. And don't worry about them hearing Mr. Eye's conversation with your mum."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"This little corner of the bar here is a sound dampening field and Mr. Eye carries a pulser. He shorted any bugs that might have been listening in."  
  
"Oh. How do you..." He stopped abruptly as a weird-looking hunched-over figure in a hood loomed at him and placed its hand on his shoulder. The other hand covered his mouth just before he could let out a yell. Now the hand on his shoulder moved to his arm, pinning it to the bar.  
  
"No one would hear you anyway, remember?" said Mr. Toadstool next to him.  
  
Brandon's face started to tingle and he tried to fight the hooded figure off with his free arm, only to find that something wet was wrapped around it, stopping him. It was Toadstool's tongue.  
  
"We're almost done now," came the voice of the hooded figure. It was a strange voice; he couldn't tell whether it was a man with a high voice or a woman with a low one.  
  
By this time his face was no longer tingling; now he couldn't feel it at all. It felt really strange, as if it was somehow heavier, or something. He didn't like the feeling at all.  
  
Soon the hand on his face came away and the figure let go of his arm. It paused for the briefest time then left, quickly disappearing among the moving bodies.  
  
"Let's look at you, then," said Mr. Toadstool, once he had taken his tongue back.  
  
"What?" asked Brandon weakly. It was all he could do after the attack.  
  
"You look good. Masque always does neat work. Take a look at yourself."  
  
Brandon didn't move.  
  
"Oh, come on. What's all this? If you're going to work for the rebellion you're going to go through much more than that. All she did was make you older."  
  
That caught his attention. The figure had made him older? He looked around for a mirror but didn't see one.  
  
"The bathroom. But hurry up; you can bet someone saw that. After you're finished in there go straight to the Ericksons'. If I need to tell you something more I'll come by later." Mr. Toadstool stood up and walked away, without a word or gesture of goodbye.  
  
He stood up, only to find that it was more difficult than he expected; his feet hit the ground too soon and his knees almost buckled, forcing him to grab onto the counter to stop himself from falling over entirely. He pushed his way back up to his feet and he immediately noticed the difference: he was taller. There was no other explanation. He wasn't looking upward nearly as much. He was staring straight at a picture on the wall that had been over his head before.  
  
Amazed, he grabbed the book off the counter again and walked over to where Toadstool had indicated the bathroom was. For the first couple of steps he felt like he was about to fall over, but by the time he got there he was used to walking again. As he opened the door he bumped his elbow painfully on the doorframe.  
  
He forgot about the pain in his elbow, though, as soon as he saw his face in the mirror. He was older. He looked like a teenager. As he stared at his features he tried to figure out what was different. It wasn't anything big; his eyes were still the same color and everything. As he continued to look he thought he noticed something: his face was thinner, more oval. So that's what it was.  
  
He continued to marvel at the changes in his appearance until another man came in and looked at him oddly. He flushed, turned around, and walked out.  
  
He was most of the way to the door when a soldier in full uniform stopped him. "What are you doing in here, kid?"  
  
"Just leaving." He backed away and walked as fast as he dared to the door and out. With a brief look back he oriented himself to go the Ericksons' house and started walking. After a minute or two he glanced back again and was gratified to find that the soldier wasn't following him, and neither was anyone else.  
  
As he walked he tried to remember everything that had happened to him in the last day, and he found he almost couldn't. Too much had happened. It was almost absurd; he had gone from being a normal kid, wandering around with Kin and occasionally going to school, to being a teenage agent of the rebellion. And he still didn't have his powers.  
  
When he got to the Ericksons' house he was almost afraid to knock on the door. Wouldn't they notice that he was different? Would they even let him in? Would Stephanie and Chloe notice him now? He could feel his cheeks start to turn a little red, but he shook himself off. He didn't want to make it any worse.  
  
Finally he built up some courage and knocked on the door. It opened within ten seconds.  
  
"Hi, Brandon," said Mrs. Erickson, "come in."  
  
He did, shocked that she didn't mention the change in his appearance.  
  
"You're just in time to help set up for dinner," she said after she closed the door behind him.  
  
He walked in and said his hellos. No one said anything about his appearance.  
  
Within seconds Mrs. Erickson was pointing out where the silverware was and telling him to set the table. He complied, aware that he would be eating her food and sleeping under her roof when both food and space were scarce resources.  
  
Most of the way through the dinner preparations someone else came into the dining room, a young girl Brandon only fleetingly recognized. He was confused, unsure why she was there. They stared at each other for a second or two, then both turned away and went back to what they had been doing before.  
  
Once they were all settled down at the table, strange girl included, Brandon became rather uncomfortable. Was it his imagination or was everyone looking at him? Well, they weren't really looking at him; it was more like they were watching him out of the corner of their eyes. They served food all around and Mrs. Erickson picked up her spoon and started eating, meaning that he could also.  
  
"Steph," whispered the strange girl after a few seconds, "I thought he was going to be more like our age." Brandon guessed he wasn't supposed to be able to hear that.  
  
"Actually," put in Mr. Erickson, "I'm curious myself. You've changed since this afternoon."  
  
"Yeah...I don't quite know what to say about that. I was at the pub and..." He stopped. "I was only at the pub to talk to someone, though. But anyway, I was at the pub and this guy, or I guess it was a man, maybe not, but anyway the person grabbed me and held me to the counter and did this to me."  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Erickson looked at each other. Mr. Erickson asked, "Why would Masque do that?"  
  
Mrs. Erickson shrugged and looked back at Brandon. "Why?"  
  
"Well, it was because someone told him to."  
  
"Her. Who told her to?"  
  
"Toad..." He stopped. What was the man's real name? It had been so long since he had had to talk about him to anyone other than another kid. Real name. Finally he remembered it. "Mr. Toynbee."  
  
Again a look passed between the adults.  
  
"Wait, what?" asked Chloe, knowing she had missed something.  
  
Mr. Erickson answered. "Don't worry about it, honey. Masque made him look older, but he's still the same old Brandon. Just forget about it."  
  
Everyone was silent. Brandon felt like everyone was staring at him from the corner of their eyes again. Even so it was a good meal, some kind of goulash, so he ignored it. And because he did so the others soon got bored and started into conversations about other things. Nothing to worry about.  
  
It was only awkward again when it was about time for bed, and he found himself in the office/extra room with the strange girl, who had introduced herself an hour or two before as Carmen. She got the little fold-out bed and he got a futon that had appeared from somewhere.  
  
The silence started to get to Brandon after a while. It was heavy, almost like a physical weight on him.  
  
"So, Carmen," he said, "where are your parents?"  
  
"My dad isn't a mutant so he doesn't live here. My mom is fighting."  
  
"Mine too. What is her power? And what is your power?"  
  
"We both have this stuff inside our bodies, this poison. If you cut us open you get hit with it or it can come right out through our skin when we want it to. Mom can make it into this kind of cloud that knocks people out or kills them depending on what she wants it to do."  
  
He could see why they would want her to be a part of the rebellion. On the other hand, it didn't make him any more comfortable sleeping in the same room as the girl.  
  
"What about your parents? What about their powers and your powers?"  
  
"Like I said, my mom is part of the rebellion also. She's a true morph. My dad was a seismic." He stopped, but she blinked at him in confusion, so he kept going. "He was in the rebellion, but they killed him. I don't have any powers yet."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The heavy silence settled on them again, and this time he didn't try to break it. He turned over so that he wouldn't be able to see her and closed his eyes. The next morning was going to be an important one for him, and he had to be fully awake for it. It wouldn't be smart for him to get a bad night's sleep and then try to get past the telepathic gate guard.  
  
Now if he could only forget what Carmen had said about poisonous gasses... 


End file.
